Lamentations is a tough, tough, almost hopeless book…
One of the toughest books...it speaks and names such powerful,
powerful devastation…
And doesn’t allow us off the hook—
Even Ecclesiastes offers some hope—even if it is hope that feels forced,
and we wonder whether it was inserted later to make the book more
palatable to Jewish minds
and Job at least gives us an answer—a divine answer that may or may
not be reasonable—but at least you get answer—the last chapters of
Job sort of reassert the supremacy of God—in the end, God doesn’t
have to answer to Job, or even us, so says the writer of Job.
The book of Psalms gives us different experiences—orientation,
disorientation, and new orientation…
In Psalms, there is recognition of the beauty of life, and the devastation
that comes to all of us in life, and there is even a recognition that life
comes even after the hard times, that life can come from even the
grave…
But Lamentations doesn’t do that—it offers almost no hope…
A bleak book that deals honestly and painfully with a disaster that called
into question both the writers relationship to his God, and the people of
Israel’s relationship to their God.
It asks the questions that couples go into therapy asking—can our
relationship be saved? Is there any hope for us?
Some people think of the book of Lamentations as this self-pitying, self-
involved book—it just sounds like this endless complaint…but its not, of
course, just like when we humans express our grief—we need to be
heard.
And the writer of Lamentations needs to be heard, to name his pain, and
the pain of his people.
This book struggles with another powerful question: has God given up
on us, the people of Israel? Has God finally rejected them?
Have they become the ex-people of God—and I’m not talking about the X-
Men movies?
What so powerful about this book is that the writer honestly asks this
question—and does not, DOES NOT, allow us any sort of shallow hope.
Wendell Berry quote about the preacher
It will not allow us out of the room with words of comfort or hope that don’t
acknowledge the disaster that has just happened. feelings…
The glaze look—I notice those moments happen when people are under
such stress and pain that they cannot allow the horror of it to sink and
they can’t allow their anger towards God or the universe or
circumstances or whatever.
But denial is a valid emotional response to those moments in our lives
that we can’t handle—we can’t stay there forever, but its valid response
to the horrors of any given moment.
However, the writer of Lamentations is far beyond denial in his grief—
there is no glaze-over look in his eyes—he is seeing the world that he is
living at that moment in its full devastation—and he is not lying to himself
as a way to protect him spiritually, emotionally, AND he is not lying to
himself in order to protect God or God’s honor.
So, what does he see, this writer who lived 2500 years ago?
He sees the ruin of Jerusalem, after the heavy hand of Babylonian
Empire has swept into the city and asserted its wrath against the people
of Israel in the year 587 BCE.
Israel had been caught between a rising Empire—the Babylonian
Empire—and a diminishing Egyptian nation that was trying to re-assert
its power in the region. Israel decided to gamble by siding with the
Egyptians—and it cost them dearly—Israel had essentially been a
puppet state of the Babylonians but the king of Israel decided to gamble
with aligning themselves with the Egyptians—bad move.
The Babylonians came and almost destroyed the city of Jerusalem as
punishment, they carted off the elite—the doctors, lawyers, scholars of
the era—and carted them off to the city of Babylon.
Often called the Babylonian Exile—and it was and is one of the defining
moments of the people of Israel.
It had never gotten this bad—and finally, it seemed as if God has just
simply abandoned them.
The book of Lamentations is the story of that pain, told in a poem. This
is not history book—it does not tell the story of what happened to
Jerusalem, or the history of what happened that had gotten them to this
place.
It just names the pain, makes real what has happened, and says the
unsayable—God is not longer with us.
5 poems corresponding its 5 chapters, this book of poetry is said to be
written by the prophet Jeremiah, or more likely, a Jewish writer who was
living in the city of Babylon, during the 50 years that the Babylonian
Empire kept the elite of Israel in captivity.
Or maybe it was someone who actually lived in the city at the time, taking
careful note of the horrors he was seeing before his eyes.
The interesting thing is that the Jewish people place this book in that
category of books we’ve been studying the last couple of months—they
place it alongside the books of Job, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs—the
Wisdom Books.
But the Christian church places Lamentations after the book of Jeremiah,
since he was the central prophet that had warned the people that they
must turn back, or suffer the terrible consequences.
Also, by the time the church put together its lists of sacred books, in the
mid-300’s, the tradition that Jeremiah had written this book had grown.
However we know that the earliest manuscripts that we have of this book
don’t ascribe or credit Jeremiah with writing this book—no one is given
credit, but slowly a tradition grew around it that gave him the credit.
But it doesn’t really matter who wrote it—because its power is not found
in its author, but in its power to move us, and persuade us, and cause us
to grow deeper in our relationship with God
The interesting thing is how this book was named…the Hebrew title is
different than the Christian name of the book, as is often the case.
The name of the book in the Hebrew Bible is ‘ekah, which means “How,”
after the first word of the book
“How lonely sits the city that once was full of people!”
But of course, our name for the book is Lamentations, and it comes from
the translation of the Latin word treni, which means lament, the word has
some Greek roots as well.
Of course, Lament is a word that means “To express grief for or about;
to mourn”
One of theories about this book is that it actually had some sort of place
in the public rites of mourning—maybe it was read out aloud whenever
the community needed a voice from the Scriptures to name the depth of
their present suffering.
We know that there were public ceremonies carried on at the site of the
ruins of decimated Jerusalem temple—and maybe this was later used in
one of those public rites of mourning.
Another interesting thing is that this writer is clearly a very skilled poets—
this is quite an artist.
This is also an alphabetical poem, which means that the first verse
begins with the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, the second verse
begins with second letter of the Hebrew alphabet, and so on. The
Hebrew alphabet has 22 letters, and 4 of the 5 chapters of this book has
22 verses—chapters 1, 2, 4, & 5.
Chapter 3 is different—it actually has 66 verses, with each letter of the
Hebrew Bible being represented by three verses, not just one.
Chapter 5, the final chapter has 22 verses as well, but it doesn’t follow
the pattern of starting each verse with each letter of the Hebrew
alphabet.
There is a discipline in this poem that is actually very helpful—poetry, the
discipline that comes from putting having to discipline your words.
Instead of this torrent of sorrow and pain, you have the emotional and
artistic discipline of this ancient poet.
He names his pain, as all poets do, through the medium of poetry, and
because there is a discipline there, because the words don’t just pour
forth as raw, undisciplined, unfiltered pain, we can hear it better.
And what do we hear?
We hear the grief of the people of Israel over the destruction of their holy
city, the very symbol of their once proud kingdom under David.
Its their attempt to come to terms with the most devastating moment in
their history.
Its an attempt to come to terms with who is to blame for this event—and
the writer faults both God and the sins of the people.
God has punished the people for their sin, so says the writer, and the
city’s destruction is directly connected to its continuous rebellion against
God.
Lamentations doesn’t take issue of whether or not the punishment fits
the crime, or even asks who is at fault, like Job does.
Lamentations knows who is to blame, and why this happened—Job never
gets an answer to that question—but Lamentations knows WHO has
inflicted the destruction of Jerusalem—God— and he knows WHY it has
happened—the sins of the people.
So, how does the writer do this?
Beautifully, actually, incredibly beautiful…there is a reason this book is in
our canon.
Let’s look at
1: 1-4
1How lonely sits the city
that once was full of people!
How like a widow she has become,
she that was great among the nations!
She that was a princess among the provinces
has become a vassal.
2 She weeps bitterly in the night,
with tears on her cheeks;
among all her lovers
she has no one to comfort her;
all her friends have dealt treacherously with her,
they have become her enemies.
3 Judah has gone into exile with suffering
and hard servitude;
she lives now among the nations,
and finds no resting place;
her pursuers have all overtaken her
in the midst of her distress.
4 The roads to Zion mourn,
for no one comes to the festivals;
all her gates are desolate,
her priests groan;
her young girls grieve,
and her lot is bitter.
As a women in a patriarchal society—vulnerable
1:7-10
7 Jerusalem remembers,
in the days of her affliction and wandering,
all the precious things
that were hers in days of old.
When her people fell into the hand of the foe,
and there was no one to help her,
the foe looked on mocking
over her downfall.
8 Jerusalem sinned grievously,
so she has become a mockery;
all who honored her despise her,
for they have seen her nakedness;
she herself groans,
and turns her face away.
9 Her uncleanness was in her skirts;
she took no thought of her future;
her downfall was appalling,
with none to comfort her.
“O LORD, look at my affliction,
for the enemy has triumphed!”
10 Enemies have stretched out their hands
over all her precious things;
she has even seen the nations
invade her sanctuary,
those whom you forbade
to enter your congregation.
Note her vulnerability in her menstrual period.
1:20-22
20 See, O LORD, how distressed I am;
my stomach churns,
my heart is wrung within me,
because I have been very rebellious.
In the street the sword bereaves;
in the house it is like death.
21 They heard how I was groaning,
with no one to comfort me.
All my enemies heard of my trouble;
they are glad that you have done it.
Bring on the day you have announced,
and let them be as I am.
22 Let all their evil doing come before you;
and deal with them
as you have dealt with me
because of all my transgressions;
for my groans are many
and my heart is faint.
Remind them about the Psalmist tradition of shaming God—do this so
that your people will not shame your name—you will be humiliated if we
are humiliated.
But its confused as well—we did wrong, but pay back our enemies for
their gloating over this misdeed.
The second chapter is really clear who is responsible for what has
happened to Jerusalem—and the writer to appeal to God sense of
mercy, by sharing some horrible sights…
2:17-22
17 The LORD has done what he purposed,
he has carried out his threat;
as he ordained long ago,
he has demolished without pity;
he has made the enemy rejoice over you,
and exalted the might of your foes.
18 Cry aloud to the Lord!
O wall of daughter Zion!
Let tears stream down like a torrent
day and night!
Give yourself no rest,
your eyes no respite!
19 Arise, cry out in the night,
at the beginning of the watches!
Pour out your heart like water
before the presence of the Lord!
Lift your hands to him
for the lives of your children,
who faint for hunger
at the head of every street.
20 Look, O LORD, and consider!
To whom have you done this?
Should women eat their offspring,
the children they have borne?
Should priest and prophet be killed
in the sanctuary of the Lord?
21 The young and the old are lying
on the ground in the streets;
my young women and my young men
have fallen by the sword;
in the day of your anger you have killed them,
slaughtering without mercy.
22 You invited my enemies from all around
as if for a day of festival;
and on the day of the anger of the LORD
no one escaped or survived;
those whom I bore and reared
my enemy has destroyed.
Note the same as above—plea for mercy, but an attempt to shame God.
But the tone shifts two ways in third chapter.
The third chapter is different—remember the 66 verses?
First—the writer becomes so identified with the city he mourns over, that
he starts talking in “I” language—Jerusalem has disappeared and this
assault on Jerusalem has become an assault upon him personally.
3:1-6—also note the triad of verses.
1 I am one who has seen affliction
under the rod of God’s wrath;
2 he has driven and brought me
into darkness without any light;
3 against me alone he turns his hand,
again and again, all day long.
4 He has made my flesh and my skin waste away,
and broken my bones;
5 he has besieged and enveloped me
with bitterness and tribulation;
6 he has made me sit in darkness
like the dead of long ago.
The public becomes personal-it is now a story of his own personal
suffering.
Second—the one place that we find hope in this whole series of poems is
found in the middle, and, interestingly enough, its not found at the end of
the book.
Remember how the last chapter of Ecclesiastes we found those last
words of hope at the end? Not here, but in the middle.
Listen to this beautiful passage:
3:22-33
22 The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases,
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
25 The LORD is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul that seeks him.
26 It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.
27 It is good for one to bear
the yoke in youth,
28 to sit alone in silence
when the Lord has imposed it,
29 to put one’s mouth to the dust
(there may yet be hope),
30 to give one’s cheek to the smiter,
and be filled with insults.
31 For the Lord will not
reject forever.
32 Although he causes grief, he will have compassion
according to the abundance of his steadfast love;
33 for he does not willingly afflict
or grieve anyone.
Note something here—the moment that he acknowledges the part that
God had in his suffering is the moment he can also see the mercy of
God.
A complex thing—we’ve spent a lot of time dealing with the problem of
suffering—and listening to Ecclesiastes resignation to the unfairness of
life and to Job’s effort to figure our WHY an innocent man is suffering.
Here we have a moment where both God is seen as both the cause of
suffering but is also seen as the one who will bring relief.
God is both merciful and just, punishing and merciful. Justice tempered
by mercy.
But this is a bitter mercy, indeed.
This is one of those moments that I mentioned earlier—this is not a
shallow hope, this is no glaze over look into the face of pain and
suffering.
Somehow he can look and affirmed the justice of God and the mercy of
God, twins traits of the God we worship.
But all of a sudden the tone goes back to the same one we found in
chapters 1 & 2
Its more bleak, the pain is more apparent—and there seems to be more
of a distance from the city—he barely mentions it.
He’s out to find who is to blame
Who has caused this suffering, this sin that God has punished by
destroying Jerusalem.
In chapter 4—goes back to 22 verses
He blames suffering of the people he mentions in the first part of the
chapter on three groups of people
The priests and prophets (12-16)
The King of Jerusalem (17-20)
Jerusalem’s enemies (21-22)
Odd reference to Edomites, since it was the Bablyonians who did this.
Too scared to name the “enemy” who was still in control when this was
written.
Chapter is all about blame, about who is to blame for bringing on God’s
wrath.
Chapter 5 continues—remember that it doesn’t follow the alphabetic
poem structure of the earlier 4 chapters.
This is different because it’s a direct appeal to God—not quite an act of
repentance, but its more of a desire to be united with God again, to have
a relationship again with God.
It becomes personal—remember us and restore us—don’t walk away.
5:15-22
15 The joy of our hearts has ceased;
our dancing has been turned to mourning.
16 The crown has fallen from our head;
woe to us, for we have sinned!
17 Because of this our hearts are sick,
because of these things our eyes have grown dim:
18 because of Mount Zion, which lies desolate;
jackals prowl over it.
19 But you, O LORD, reign forever;
your throne endures to all generations.
20 Why have you forgotten us completely?
Why have you forsaken us these many days?
21 Restore us to yourself, O LORD, that we may be restored;
renew our days as of old—
22 unless you have utterly rejected us,
and are angry with us beyond measure.
Unlike Ecclesiastes, it does not end with hope, but with an appeal, a cry
for God’s mercy.
A couple of major things I want leave us with, a couple of things that
Lamentations can teach us.
1) Don’t be too quick to push past the pain—don’t try to skip the
cross trying to get to resurrection
If everything can teach us something, we ought to listen to those
moments when life hits us hard.
No, don’t wallow, don’t stay there…the cross is not the end of the story,
the resurrection is…
But there are some things that you can only learn while sitting in the
midst of your own personal devastation, your own destroyed Jerusalem.
Of course, I cant’ tell you what you will learn—our own personal
Jerusalem’s are particular to us.
There is no standard lessons to learn, only particular truths that God is
trying to teach us through our suffering.
2) Don’t settle for shallow hope.
What I mean is that real hope is forged through real life—and real life
can be quite a bummer.
Shallow hope throws outs clichés, or tries to push others and ourselves
quickly past the suffering.
It’s the glaze-eyed hope that denies real human suffering. Lamentations
teaches us that to be faithful means to speak words of hope—or even no
hope—through the eyes of the real world. And sometimes the real world
is hard, difficult, unfair—sometimes we experience our own Jerusalem
and we need to be honest and truthful, as truthful and honest as the
writer of this book.
Real hope knows what it means to speak of pain and hopelessness—
and stay there, for awhile, seeing the world for the way it is…and
knowing that God is on the other side of that cross, the destroyed
Jerusalem that you are experiencing in that moment. It also that God is
there with you, at that moment, and not just on the other side, the
resurrection.
The appeal to God here is heard, most definitely, perhaps not answered,
but most definitely heard.
And when you are in the midst of your own Jerusalem or your cross, it
may or may not be enough for you, but it is the one thing that we are
guaranteed by God. We will be heard.
